


it was always inside

by theonlytwin



Series: one heart between us [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Kayfabe Compliant, M/M, dumb buff boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonlytwin/pseuds/theonlytwin
Summary: Kenny and Kota after their first match and after Dominion 2018.





	it was always inside

When Kota saw Kenny first - he remembers very clearly - it was half naked and larger than life, despite being two inches tall on a TV screen. 

He watched Kenny’s tape twice over, and decided that they absolutely had to wrestle. 

When Kota met Kenny first, it was a little hard to reconcile the brash, flashy performer of the tape and the sort of awkward man who wore terrible shorts and kept glancing up at Kota from under his fringe - making himself seem smaller than he was.

He was, Kota realised, very cute. 

Preparing for their first match meant training together regularly. Kota took him out after every session. Kenny didn’t drink, but he loved games. He had a sister who he cared for deeply, and a cottage in Canada. He picked up the accent of anyone he talked to. He couldn’t dress himself but ate very healthily. He wanted to be the best wrestler in the world and he put an enormous amount of work of into that.

They matched each other, almost perfectly. They fit together so well. It would be good to have a dedicated rival. 

But after their match - not immediately, but in the dwindling hours after the post-show meal - Kota realised that’s not what he wanted. 

Maybe it was when half the pack peeled off to a strip club. 

“You want to come, Omega-san?” asks Takagi. 

Kenny glances at Kota, who shakes his head. 

“Oh, Ibushi doesn’t like girls,” Takagi announces, lazily, as though it might be a joke. 

He turns away from Kota’s glare, starts talking to one of the young boys.

Kota looks at Kenny, who blinks once, twice, and opens his mouth a little. 

If he doesn’t want to fight Kota ever again - if he doesn’t want to touch Kota ever again - that’s his loss.

“You’re...?” he trails off, language failing him.

Kota nods, waits. Kenny grins. 

“Me too,” he says. “I mean - I don’t like strip clubs, I do - like women, but also men, but - in English, we say: I swing both ways.”

Kota thinks about this for a second. “Like - a baseball bat?” He mimes a hit.

“Sure,” Kenny laughs. “Except I’m bad at dating, so it’s mostly just misses.”

They stand there, outside the restaurant, while the others wander off. 

“Want to go to an arcade?” Kota asks. 

“So much,” Kenny says, nodding.

***

“Kenny-san,” Kota said, slowly, as they near the station. “I had an idea. And I thought you might be interested - our match was pretty good, wasn’t it?” 

It’s late, and there’s no one out but them and the street lamps. 

Kenny looks, suddenly, nervous - eyes wide and hands knotted around his backpack straps. He got a high score on Pac-Man. He’s only a year younger than Kota, and he looks, right then, like a kid. Cute. Dear. 

“It was the best match I’ve ever been in,” Kenny says. “It was incredible.”

“Yeah.” Kota nods. “It was.” 

Kenny smiles. 

Kota wants to kiss him.

“Do you want to be in a tag team?” he asks this young, cute man. “With me?”

Kenny is stunned. It’s a different kind of stunned to earlier. 

“Us?” Kota nods. “They - they won’t let us.”

“We could convince them. We’d be so good.”

“I mean - yeah.” He takes a step towards Kota. “Yeah, of course - you’re the only person I’d want to, to team up with, if you want to be partners, I won’t disappoint you. You and me, we’ll be the best tag team in the world!” 

Kota wants him to be as happy, as excited, as this all the time.

Kota kisses him. 

It’s short and awkward. They bump together, essentially. Kenny’s eyes are wide open, and Kota curses himself for fucking this up so quickly.

“Sorry, that was bad,” Kota says. “Sorry, I thought,” but he doesn’t know what he thought. 

“No - no,” Kenny shakes his head, catches the edge of Kota’s jacket in his hand. “It’s not bad - it’s ok.”

“I do want to be your tag partner,” Kota tells him, “you don’t have to - we don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Kenny says, and leans in, kisses him, more carefully than Kota did it. His lips are soft, and he tastes like Coke. He rests a hand against Kota’s waist, brings the other up to touch his cheek, gently, draws back, still looks very nervous and very young. “Ibushi, I like you - very very much.”

“Good,” Kota rests their foreheads together. “That’s good. Me too.”

He kisses Kenny again, mouth open. He walks him back against a wall, a lazy pin, kisses him blindly, hungrily.

They miss the next three trains because they’re pressed together in an alleyway, terrified and thrilled.

When they finally get on a train, they sit as close as possible. Their thighs touch, their shoulders, and it feels like electricity is flowing between them. 

“Why did you say you’re bad at dating?” Kota asks, head tipped towards Kenny’s. “Because as a date, this has been very good.”

“Um. I tend to come on a little strong.” Kenny twitches. “And, well. The last person I dated thought I was _too_ into wrestling.” 

Kota slips his hand into Kenny’s. “Did they not know you are a wrestler?”

“She, uh. She didn’t think it was a realistic career path to, uh, want to be the best in the world.”

Kota squeezes his fingers. “You could. You should.”

Kenny breathes out, squeezes back, presses his leg closer. “You’ve known me for a month.”

“I have also been told I come on strong.”

He laughs. Kota holds him tight.

***

Kenny left the WWE because, he said, they were too controlling: wanted to dress him, feed him lines, wanted him to pretend to be straight. 

The Golden Lovers seemed like a natural progression.

This was probably why it fell apart, Kota thinks, later, watching Kenny get slammed by Okada from a hotel room the WWE paid for. When they first met, they had no strategies, no tactics, no long term thoughts - just doing what felt like it might be the thing to do next. 

Kota looks at his big double bed, the huge room. 

He starts planning. 

***

They fit together again like they were never apart: like they knew each other in a past life, and in a certain way that’s true.

They’ve both changed, but changed in the same same direction - maybe that’s what growing up is. 

Kota has no idea. This is the longest relationship he’s ever had. It’s the only thing he could imagine himself wanting.

***

When they get home after Dominion, Kenny showers for twenty minutes - long enough that Kota wonders if he should check he hasn’t fallen asleep standing. 

He emerges about a minute before Kota slides open the bathroom door himself - clean and damp and steaming. His hair is a mess and his face is red. 

Kota puts his hands on Kenny’s waist, above the towel.

“You need something to eat?”

Kenny shakes his head, eyes half closed, dazed. 

“There’s noodles. And chips,” Kota tells him, but doesn’t move.

“I’m not hungry,” Kenny says, smiling a little.

“You’ll wake up hungry in the middle in the night.” 

“Fine, I’ll eat,” Kenny rolls his eyes. 

“Good,” Kota says, and still doesn’t move. 

Instead, he slides his hands up from his waist to his ribs. He doesn’t press in, just feels the skin hot with blood beaten to the surface. He ducks his head forward, brushes his nose along Kenny’s jaw, presses his cheek to Kenny’s, sighs against him. 

“Bu-san,” Kenny whispers, in his ear. 

“I could to make you miso,” Kota says, “or toast. With an egg.”

“Miso,” Kenny says, quietly, hooking his fingers behind Kota’s neck.

“Anything you want.” 

He feels Kenny smile. “I want to go to bed.”

“I’ll bring it to you.”

Kenny gets a thumb under his chin, and Kota tips his face up willingly, kisses him sweetly. Kenny’s mouth is clean and still smiling. 

He reaches around, hands finding Kenny’s shoulder blades, the mounds of muscles still tensed. Kota tries to pace himself, drinks him in, trying to be gentle, wanting to hold him closer, to pin him in place. He wants, he wants. 

He draws back, kisses his cheek when Kenny leans forward, turns his face into Kenny’s neck, breathing intentionally slow.

“Go to bed. I’ll bring it to you.”

“So kind,” Kenny sing songs. “So bossy.”

“Not only handsome,” Kota replies, sliding away from him.

“Also strongest,” Kenny says, swaying gently as Kota turns away.

“I will carry you if you don’t go to bed,” Kota says, mock threatening. 

Kenny doesn’t make any noise, and Kota looks back. 

He’s just standing there, still red and exhausted and grinning. He doesn’t look so dazed, now. 

“I love you,” Kota says. 

Kenny grins wider, clutches at his chest, staggers back, selling, even now.

Now Kota rolls his eyes, heads to the kitchen.

***

He boils the water and rolls his shoulders once, twice. Watching Kenny wrestle always made him - excited. It was energising. He always wanted to be part of it - every match he saw. They had that, for a while. And now again, sometimes.

But he had a role, tonight. He had a part to play. He had to stand to the side. He had to watch. 

Now he feels like running laps around the block. He feels like climbing a building. He feels like he could take a flip off a moving train. He feels like he could fuck for years.

Instead, he pours boiling water into a mug, stirs the miso in. It’s cloudy against the ceramic. He holds the mug by the rim, carries it carefully down the hall. 

Kenny is lying face down, naked on the bed. The red from the shower is fading, making it clear where bruises will be tomorrow. His ass is pale and lovely, legs crossed at the ankle, arms folded under his head. 

He’s very beautiful.

“Miso?”

“I brushed my teeth in the shower,” Kenny says, into the pillow.

Kota blows air out through his lips. “I could carry your body to a grave.”

Kenny laughs, rolls over, sits up. “OK, OK.”

He drags a pillow over his lap, leans back against the wall. He reaches out, a little imperious, but still smiling, tired.

“Thank you, Ibu-tan.” 

Kota flops onto the bed beside him, presses his face to the outside of Kenny’s thigh.

He’s still so hot. “You’re still so hot.”

Kenny sips the soup, hums. 

“Kenny-tan, did you know? I’m very proud of you.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could have.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

He wraps a hand around Kenny’s knee. Kenny puts a hand in Kota’s hair. 

“You can do anything,” Kota says, against his skin.

“You make me want to.” There’s a click as Kenny sets the mug down, some small sounds as he starts shuffling down the bed. “Hang on, I can’t hear you due to the fact I can barely move.” 

“So dramatic,” Kota mumbles.

“You love it,” Kenny mutters back, fitting his hand to Kota’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kota agrees.

“I love you.” Kenny’s voice cracks. “I love you. I love you. _I love you, you, you,_ ,” he clutches at Kota’s shirt, pressing himself blindly forward.

Kota tightens a hand around Kenny’s wrist, just holding him in place for a second. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he says again, urgently, now, rocking his hips towards Kenny’s hardening cock, his own cock starting to strain against his shorts.

“Please,” Kenny says, and Kota heaves a breath in, kisses him hard. He sits up, strips his shirt off. 

“What do you want?” 

“Everything,” he says, flushed. “Kota.”

“Impractical.” He runs a hand down Kenny’s flank, watches him shiver. “My mouth?”

“Yes.” His hands are shaking as he reaches up, as he cups Kota’s face. Kenny’s thumbs run along his lips. “Please.” 

Kota rolls between Kenny’s legs, pushes up, to breathe him in. 

Kenny groans. Kota licks once, twice, opens his mouth wide. He takes him all the way down quicker than is probably advisable. 

He hold Kenny’s hips hard to the bed when he tries to buck up. He stays slow, while Kenny says, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, please,” over and over, lets Kenny run his fingers through his hair. 

He waits until Kenny is close, and pulls Kenny’s hips up, coaxing him deeper, letting him take over, letting him thrust into mouth. 

Kenny’s words run together into a single incoherent exhalation.

He swallows, and licks Kenny’s cock once more, catching the last drop, swallows again. 

He rests his head against Kenny’s thigh once more, sighs contentedly as Kenny catches his breath. 

“Hey,” Kenny grabs at his shoulder, tugging him up, “hey, come here. Come here, I love you.”

Kota climbs up his body, rests his forearms on either side of Kenny’s head and looks at his most beloved face. 

Kenny’s smiling, loose and relaxed, half biting his bottom lip - an almost shy gesture at odds with the fact that they’re fucking. 

Kenny lifts his head a little, kisses him wetly, tugs at his elbows, urging him up again.

“Fuck my mouth,” he whispers, and Kota’s heard it before, but every time he says it is as delightful as the first time - nearly decade ago, twenty six and sweaty and falling in love. 

He can’t speak, but nods, and gets higher, straddles Kenny’s shoulders, helps him get a pillow under his head. 

It’s a lot, when he does this - the soft focus of his face, his bright eyes, mouth stretched and throat hot. 

Kenny puts his hands on Kota’s ass and bobs his head up - it’s good, it’s perfect. It’s as he remembers and it’s something entirely new. 

He makes fists in Kenny’s yellow hair, and rocks in, easily at first, but he’s already close, he’s been close since he got into bed, and when Kenny blinks up at him, smiles around his cock - it’s over.

Kota rolls to the side, arranges himself behind Kenny, with an arm over his chest, their bodies flush.

“You good?” Kota asks, after Kenny lets out a long sigh.

“Real good,” he says. “You?”

Kota tucks his arm tighter, hand finding his heartbeat. “Yes.”

“Thought you were going to come join me in the shower,” Kenny mumbles, after a moment. 

“That’s why you were in there so long? I thought you were just tired.” 

“You had that look, like you wanted to jump off a car or fuck me through a wall.”

“I thought about it,” Kota admits. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Kenny says, “I have a late start, so we should definitely have sex instead of the car thing.”

“Maybe that’s how I’ll wake you up. If you like?”

Kenny pushes his hips back, a tired stretch and seduction move at once. “Yes, please.”

Kota presses his face into Kenny’s neck. “My lover,” he says, quietly.

“Yours,” Kenny says, “all yours.” 

Kenny falls asleep first, and Kota holds him the only way he knows how.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to mercy-misrule for the beta. download a zip full of love songs for wrestlers here: https://drive.google.com/open?id=1_gorTrX2rD8zebTkTkRo4PeTuEWTdMbf


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